


it grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere

by progfox



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "hot" blackrom makeouts, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Clawing, F/F, Hair-pulling, Run-On Sentences, probably AU in some way or another, some purple prose i think but not much??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/progfox/pseuds/progfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Vriska's hair care habits are closely examined, as well as Aradia's feelings, and the two of them discover themselves. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from panic! at the disco's "the piano knows something i don't know"  
> tbh i'm not entirely sure about how this fic fits into canon? admittedly there are a lot of things in canon i don't quite understand as well as maybe i should but u_u i tried so!! yeah  
> ending might seem kind of rushed and maybe it is but?? there was literally nothing else i could do for that part

Her hair is something rough, something coarse, like she doesn't ever care for it. Maybe she doesn't, because who has time to even pretend to brush their hair when they need to get busy FLARPing? Even after she loses her eye and her arm and stops playing stupid games for girls she just doesn't care. Because why waste time on appearances when no one can see you but you? Looks don't matter to her anyway, no one gives a shit about fashion and no one gives a shit about hair, excluding maybe a few snobby douchebags and Kanaya.

Vriska supposes she does care, to a certain extent, because long hair is a pain in the ass but she keeps it anyway, can't waste time chopping off that mangled piece of beauty. She loves it, although mostly she just doesn't cut it because it's impossible, at this point, to figure out what goes where. She'd might as well just hack it all off and lose that beautiful feeling of hair brushing against her arms; she can't feel it anymore anyway through her jacket and through the metals of her arm. Her prosthetic arm can't feel.

And then Aradia Megido, she just can't feel. She feels nothing but 0k. Everything is 0k. Okay. Her nerve endings are as dead as the rest of her. She is like Vriska's arm, metallic and unfeeling, only she isn't a robot yet. She isn't heartless, she just isn't sad or happy or any of those feelings. Neutral. Okay. She isn't afraid, especially not of dying because you can't die if you're already dead. She doesn't pity and she doesn't hate and she just doesn't.

It is infuriating for Vriska. All she wants is to pull on those black curls, claw Megido up and make her bleed rust. She wants blood on her fingernails, already filthy because she just doesn't care, and she wants wants wants Aradia to hate her too. Only she isn't sure if she really hates Aradia, if these feelings are black as when there isn't a light to be found, or if she just thinks she does because it makes her so fucking angry, to think of Aradia's soulless eyes looking straight at her telling her she doesn't care.

Maybe all she wants is for Aradia to give a damn.

* * *

Aradia remembers what it was like to feel properly. She misses that, almost. As much as she can miss anything anymore. She almost longs to feel again, live again, but she can't just yet. It is not the time; and as the Maid of Time, she believes she can properly judge when it is the right time. She isn't quite sure, just yet, how she can possibly come back to life for real, but she knows it is possible.

The voices of the dead told her so, and who would know better than the dead?

* * *

_"We could end the world, me and you."_

And Vriska Serket, she is not a monster. She is not horrid, she is not the worst being to grace Alternia. She knows this, and she can't decide how she feels about that. She wants to be the best, the very best, but she wants to be the worst in the sense that she is feared. She wants to be terrible in the sense that she rules with an iron fist. Terrifies anyone who dares to stand in her way. That is what Vriska whats to be.

* * *

Aradia is a robot and Vriska knows how it feels, sort of, to have no true nerve endings. Aradiabot is more complex, in both design and function, than Vriska's robotic arm was; she can feel. She has crudely formed nerve endings, pretty dull but she knows when she's being touched. Usually. Vriska takes advantage of this, sometimes, partaking in silly little "flirtatious" rituals like brushing against her arm. Silly kid stuff. She's just a kid. They're just kids. All of them are.

It's hard.

Aradia is amazed, she's sort of alive again. Not to the same extent as she was before, no, but she is more alive than she has been in a long while. It's almost a nice feeling, sort of, but it'd be nicer without Vriska hounding her for hate, for some form of attention. She's almost desperate in her attempts to get Aradia to notice her and didn't she hate Tavros? Or did Aradia misinterpret the situation?

Who knows, they're so confused, they're all confused.

It's hard and nobody understands.

* * *

It's after the game, after everything, Vriska is dead and invading Aradia's dream bubble for another chance at life. A chance to press her cerulean-painted lips against red, to twist her fingers through her hair, tug on those pretty little curls. She wants Aradia clawing at her back and her arms but Aradia does not give. Aradia gives her this look, a look that says _you'll have to fight for what you want_. And that means giving the hate she wants so badly.

And so Vriska does. She shoves the other girl down and drops herself to the ground, straddling her. She presses her lips roughly against Aradia's lips. Aradia grabs onto Vriska's tangled hair and pulls hard, trying to get her closer. It's almost frightening, how passionate they have gotten in such a short amount of time, that Vriska is almost afraid it isn't happening. She decides not to care, losing herself in this wonderous hate. She lets out a sound that is a mix between a moan and a cry of pain as Aradia pulls on her hair; she's sure she's losing chunks of it, that the two trolls will get up and see themselves surrounded by matted hair.

Whatever, whatever, it doesn't matter, all that matters is this is the most beautiful dream bubble and Aradia needs to never wake up, ever. Because Megido cares, she does, and that care is translated as hate but it's the best possible thing. Vriska's heart is pounding and she can't believe it, she just cannot believe it.

Aradia stops pulling on Vriska's hair, breaks away from the kiss entirely and pants. She gives Vriska that look again, like _fight for what you want_ , like _give me the hate you want_.

Vriska starts to claw on Aradia's arms, ripping up her sleeves, and bites her rust-red lower lip. She bites hard and tastes the metallic tang of her blood. Beautiful, beautiful. She almost wants to cry. Aradia runs her fingernails down Vriska's bare arms, digging into her skin, and Vriska moans because oh God is it good to feel that arm again.

Aradia can feel again, completely, she can feel, but she's not sure how to feel about this. Not 0k, more or less than okay maybe, she's not sure. It is better or worse than kissing Equius, probably, but she was a robot then. Felt pretty much alive for lack of a better term, but she was still circuits and synapses and not a living, breathing creature.

This is all so strange, very knew to the two of them, but regardless of how much they hate or don't hate each other they think they've gotten themselves into a caliginous relationship.

Too bad it's only a dream.

* * *

It's hard, being dead. It's hard and Vriska finally understands. Oh, how she would like to live again.

But in any case, Vriska and Aradia, they are not meant for each other forever, necessarily. They are simply meant to be.

And is that not enough for now?


End file.
